Okay, H/G, G
My entry for the hpgw_otp contest! The emotion I chose was "okay". I wrote another entry but decided I didn't like it enough :P so here's this one instead (I know, I know, I keep making a habit of this). I am hoping to post another fic soon, but I've got to polish it up first. In the meantime, this is my early birthday present to, er, myself. (If anyone else wants to give me a fic-present this weekend, I would smile a lot ;) )
Title: Okay
Summary: Harry's being stupid. Ginny tries to talk to him.
Rating: G
Word Count: 699 (I totally got it under the max word count! Go me!)
Notes/Warnings: I would just like you all to notice how this has the Best. Summary. In. The. World.
The rain has been slamming into the roof of 12 Grimmauld Place incessantly for the past three days. The sound is driving Ginny mental; even Ron and Hermione's ever-louder bickering cannot drown out the pattering of water on the cavernous house.
What annoys her isn't really that it's raining-she has always liked rain, liked the smell of the air afterwards-but rather that it's raining and she cannot go outside to feel it slide along her skin and drench her hair. Ever since a Death Eater was spotted in Hyde Park last week, Molly has banned them from leaving Grimmauld Place for anything. All attempts to convince her otherwise have been useless, and they've given up trying.
So Ginny trudges past the kitchen without even bothering to go inside and beg her mother again. She's about to go upstairs when she sees a flash of green in the parlor and goes in.
Predictably, it's Harry, sitting on the windowseat and looking out at the falling rain, as silent as he has been for the last-oh, about the last month, give or take a few years, Ginny thinks sourly. She hasn't heard him say a thing since dinner two nights ago, when he asked Ron to pass the salt. When he first came, he yelled a few times, laughed a few times, but as the weeks of summer have slipped by, he has become endlessly mute.
"Hey, you," she says, as brightly as possible.
Her attempts to get him to talk over the past few weeks have been mostly met with blank stares or distracted nods, but this time his eyes jerk to her quickly and he replies, "Hi," in a voice that she has forgotten the sound of.
"How are you doing?" she asks. He shrugs, looking away. She rolls her eyes. "You know, the silent treatment got old, oh, about three weeks ago, when you arrived."
"I don't have to talk if I don't want to-" he says defensively.
"Well, obviously."
He glares at her and there is a pause before he continues hoarsely, "I don't know what there is to say."
"Harry, just because-"
"It's not 'just because'!" he responds too loudly. "'Just because' is for things like-like if your spell doesn't work in Transfiguration, and you're sad-not for when people just-when people just go, just leave-just like-"
He clamps his mouth shut and clenches his jaw, and Ginny crosses the room before she realizes what she's doing. The wool of his green jumper is coarse beneath her hand when she touches his arm tentatively, expecting him to jump away. He doesn't.
"I didn't mean it like that," she tells him softly. "I'm not saying it doesn't matter. I just want you to-I just want you to be okay."
"Look, I know you're all trying to make me happy, and fine, thanks, but it's hard to be happy when-"
"Don't you think we know that?" she snaps. It all comes tumbling out of her: "You think you're the only one hurting, but Remus is-have you even looked at his face? Or at Tonks? She doesn't trip because she's clumsy anymore; she trips because she sees something here that reminds her of him and-and this house is full of pain; you don't even notice; you think it's all inside of you and you don't try to help anyone else even though they're trying to help you, and-"
She breaks off. There are tears in his eyes and hers. As usual, he says nothing.
"I'm not asking you to be happy," she continues resignedly. "I'm only asking you to try to be okay."
After a terrible pause, in which the rain pounding on the roof seems to fill her ears, he looks back up at her and exhales. He brings his left hand up to slide over hers where it is holding his right arm fast, and it is so warm, so so warm, and she tries to ignore how her skin prickles at the feel of his skin.
"Okay," he says, and (slowly, as though it's unfamiliar to him) he manages to smile.
Title: Okay
Summary: Harry's being stupid. Ginny tries to talk to him.
Rating: G
Word Count: 699 (I totally got it under the max word count! Go me!)
Notes/Warnings: I would just like you all to notice how this has the Best. Summary. In. The. World.
The rain has been slamming into the roof of 12 Grimmauld Place incessantly for the past three days. The sound is driving Ginny mental; even Ron and Hermione's ever-louder bickering cannot drown out the pattering of water on the cavernous house.
What annoys her isn't really that it's raining-she has always liked rain, liked the smell of the air afterwards-but rather that it's raining and she cannot go outside to feel it slide along her skin and drench her hair. Ever since a Death Eater was spotted in Hyde Park last week, Molly has banned them from leaving Grimmauld Place for anything. All attempts to convince her otherwise have been useless, and they've given up trying.
So Ginny trudges past the kitchen without even bothering to go inside and beg her mother again. She's about to go upstairs when she sees a flash of green in the parlor and goes in.
Predictably, it's Harry, sitting on the windowseat and looking out at the falling rain, as silent as he has been for the last-oh, about the last month, give or take a few years, Ginny thinks sourly. She hasn't heard him say a thing since dinner two nights ago, when he asked Ron to pass the salt. When he first came, he yelled a few times, laughed a few times, but as the weeks of summer have slipped by, he has become endlessly mute.
"Hey, you," she says, as brightly as possible.
Her attempts to get him to talk over the past few weeks have been mostly met with blank stares or distracted nods, but this time his eyes jerk to her quickly and he replies, "Hi," in a voice that she has forgotten the sound of.
"How are you doing?" she asks. He shrugs, looking away. She rolls her eyes. "You know, the silent treatment got old, oh, about three weeks ago, when you arrived."
"I don't have to talk if I don't want to-" he says defensively.
"Well, obviously."
He glares at her and there is a pause before he continues hoarsely, "I don't know what there is to say."
"Harry, just because-"
"It's not 'just because'!" he responds too loudly. "'Just because' is for things like-like if your spell doesn't work in Transfiguration, and you're sad-not for when people just-when people just go, just leave-just like-"
He clamps his mouth shut and clenches his jaw, and Ginny crosses the room before she realizes what she's doing. The wool of his green jumper is coarse beneath her hand when she touches his arm tentatively, expecting him to jump away. He doesn't.
"I didn't mean it like that," she tells him softly. "I'm not saying it doesn't matter. I just want you to-I just want you to be okay."
"Look, I know you're all trying to make me happy, and fine, thanks, but it's hard to be happy when-"
"Don't you think we know that?" she snaps. It all comes tumbling out of her: "You think you're the only one hurting, but Remus is-have you even looked at his face? Or at Tonks? She doesn't trip because she's clumsy anymore; she trips because she sees something here that reminds her of him and-and this house is full of pain; you don't even notice; you think it's all inside of you and you don't try to help anyone else even though they're trying to help you, and-"
She breaks off. There are tears in his eyes and hers. As usual, he says nothing.
"I'm not asking you to be happy," she continues resignedly. "I'm only asking you to try to be okay."
After a terrible pause, in which the rain pounding on the roof seems to fill her ears, he looks back up at her and exhales. He brings his left hand up to slide over hers where it is holding his right arm fast, and it is so warm, so so warm, and she tries to ignore how her skin prickles at the feel of his skin.
"Okay," he says, and (slowly, as though it's unfamiliar to him) he manages to smile.